To Keep You Happy
by SailorCheesy
Summary: Eighteen year-old Alfred has been living with Arthur for two years now. And he wants a tattoo. But when Arthur doesn't want Alfred to have one, it leads to an even bigger fight. Can Arthur convince Alfred he didn't mean what he said, and keep him out of the clutches of Francis? What will he have to promise to keep Alfred happy? One-shot. USUK with onesided FrUS.


"Hey, Alfred!" Says a girl with long, chocolate brown ponytails tied in her hair by two red ribbons. "Later on Francis and I are going to get tattoos. You wanna come too?"

"I don't think Arthur would like that." Alfred replies, laughing. His face turns just the slightest bit pink thinking of his British caretaker, but he passes it off as a blush of humiliation over Arthur's un-cool-ness.

"Arthur doesn't like anything you do! C'mon, let's have some fun! These tattoos will be symbols of our everlasting friendship, how about that? That way we'll _have _to stick together!" Michelle exclaims, throwing her arm over his shoulder. "Plus, you're eighteen now. You can do whatever you want! Arthur has like, zero control over what you do anymore."

Alfred smiles. "You're right, I guess I am. I'll ask him."

"Are you sure you two aren't like, dating?" Michelle suddenly asks. "Like, you always ask him what he thinks and stuff. That's totally something a couple would do."

"Dating? We're talking about the guy who took me off the streets when I was sixteen, Shell. He's like, raised me for two years. I'm pretty sure he thinks of me as his son or something."

"Yeah, but haven't you ever thought about it? He must have seen something he liked, to take you in like that when he was only eighteen. Can you imagine all the jobs and stuff he's done so you won't have to like, be adopted or something? He probably has a huge crush on you!"

"Arthur doesn't have a crush on me! Are you insane? God, you're such a perv!"

"No I'm not! You two being together is totally legal! Plus, he's so nice to you! Like, more nice than the average guardian/caretaker dude would be. It's like he's trying to get you to stay with him for as long as possible. He always blushes when you compliment him, and he's always bringing you gifts and stuff! And he doesn't even cook anymore because he knows you don't like his cooking! I think maybe he wants to be more than just the guy who took you off the streets."

Alfred sighs, turning red. "If you really wanna know, I guess I've thought about it before. Like, us together and stuff. But that's just not the way it is. Blushing is totally normal for people, and giving me gifts is just what the person who raised you does, right? They bring you stuff and try to make you happy? And he probably stopped cooking because he's almost burnt down our house like ten times."

"Yeah... But most parents don't give their kids that many gifts! It's like, you get something new every day!"

"Really? I guess I don't notice."

Michelle laughs. "You never notice when someone's flirting with you."

"But I guess I do like Arthur." Alfred says. The longer he thought about it, the more he realized that he really did like Arthur as more than a friend or a caretaker. But still, he couldn't see how Michelle would think Arthur might feel the same. "I mean... Maybe. I dunno, I sorta kinda like Francis a bit too, but I would choose Arthur over him, I guess..."

"Oh my gosh, yay! Now I can finally tell that Canadian guy to stop hitting on you! And Arthur SO feels the same. Just wait a little while to tell him so you're sure of your feelings."

"Wait! Matthew Williams has been hitting on me? And why do I have to tell him?!"

"Yeah. I dunno how you don't notice. Everyone always flirts with you. Oh, and you HAVE to tell him! Otherwise Francis might steal you away and he'll get mad and do something crazy to win you back."

"Dude, like nobody ever flirts with me. Plus, Arthur would never do something crazy for me."

"Whatever, whatever... Anyway, back to the tattoo. You gonna get one with us?"

"I already answered you! I'll ask Arthur!"

"Okay, but just because he says no doesn't mean you can't. You're eighteen, that's legally an adult. You can officially get a tattoo without guardian's consent, man. Like, seriously. I wouldn't even ask him, it'll mess with your head if he says no."

"Yeah, yeah... I'm still gonna ask him."

"Hey, I just thought of something! We should as Francis to be like, our legal guardian since he's a few years older, and then we can be like brother and sister! Wouldn't that be so fun? We could live in Francis' giant house and stuff, too!"

"That sounds like something an insane person would say. Dude, your mom would be so mad!"

"So would Arthur, but who cares? I say we do it!"

"No way. We're adults anyway."

"You're such a stick in the mud! See you at six outside my house for the tattoo?"

"Yep!"

Alfred and Michelle walk their separate ways and back to their houses, Michelle calling "Remember not to care what Arthur thinks!"

* * *

As the young man walks into his house, he calls "Artie! I'm home! And I gotta talk to you about something!" He slips out of his sneakers and then drops his bag onto the floor next to the coat hanger.

Arthur walks out into the hall. "What is it?" He asks. "Honestly, Alfred, can't you ever just hang your book bag up?"

The Brit smiled lightly at Alfred, unable to help himself. God, Alfred sure was looking at him weird... It made him nervous, and when he was nervous he tended to smile. Plus, he was worried about what Alfred wanted to talk to him about. The last time he had seen that sort of look he had been giving it to his own parents as he packed his last bag and said his goodbye's.

Arthur didn't want Alfred to leave. That's why he was always giving him gifts and saying nice things. He had fallen in love with the boy, and he just couldn't refrain from trying to show how he felt and how badly he wanted him to stay. Trying to make Alfred feel like he was wanted by giving him gifts and compliments and things seemed like the best way to show he cared, since whenever he tried to talk about his feelings it came out wrong.

"Um... Michelle and Francis asked me to come with them to get tattoos." The younger says, grabbing his worn out backpack and hanging it up.

Arthur says nothing for a moment, staring at Alfred incredulously. Then, "No. Absolutely not. Especially not with that bloody frog." Hey, even though he loved the lad there was just no way he was going to let him get some ridiculous tattoo. And even if he was, Francis would be the last person Arthur would let Alfred go with. Francis was obviously trying to steal Alfred away from, and he couldn't comprehend how Alfred never noticed.

"Whaaaaaaat? Why not?" Alfred pouts.

"Because! Tattoos are permanent! They require a lot of thought! A few hours is not enough time to think about something that will be permanently inked onto your body! Plus, it hurts like hell. AND that frog Francis is always putting his hands on you! I don't trust him!"

"I'm not a wimp! And Michelle already has the tattoos picked out! We're going to get them matching! And Francis is a nice dude! Like, he's always taking us out and doing things and he's really funny and smart! Plus, he says I'm a really great friend and that he likes hanging with us! And he doesn't put his hands on me that often, seriously!"

Arthur moves forward, grabbing the younger's shoulders. Fire burns in his emerald eyes, and he is giving the American the most severe face he manage. "Alfred. No."

"But I want one!"

"Well sometimes we want things we can't have!" Arthur says angrily.

Alfred raises an eyebrow. He had a feeling Arthur wasn't just talking about tattoos anymore, but he ignores it.

"Well I CAN have a tattoo!"

"No you can't!"

"Yes I can! I think you're forgetting that I'm legally an adult now, I can do whatever I want! If I wanted to pack my bags and leave tomorrow, I could do it! You're not the boss of me! I only asked you because I wanted your support, but I don't anymore!" Alfred yells, bright blue eyes piercing into Arthur's.

"You're being stupid!" The British man yells back.

"Is that what you think!? That I'm stupid for wanting a lasting reminder of my friendship?! You know, if I had taken Francis' offer to come and live with him, this wouldn't be happening! He would let me get a tattoo!"

Arthur's eyes flicker with hurt for a moment, and Alfred thinks he's gone too far, when the anger returns to them."If you think Francis is so much better than me, why don't you go and live with him?! Then I would have one less thing to annoy me all day with idiotic arguments like this!"

Alfred's bottom lip quivers, and he holds back tears. "If that's what you want, then fine! He's always offering anyway! You know, maybe what he said about you is true! You're just some cranky stupid British guy!"

"FINE!" The Brit yells as Alfred dashes up the stairs, "Pack your bags and get OUT!" Then, he softens and his eyes drop to the spot where Alfred's red sneakers are sitting. "Oh, god... What have I done?"

He stands there and just stares at Alfred's sneakers for a whole five minutes, breathing deeply to calm his nerves and occasionally wiping a tear from his face. God, how could he have said all that stuff to Alfred? And how could Alfred have said all those hurtful things back to him? And why would he say that Alfred was annoying, or that he wanted him gone?!

He looks back at the stairs. After a moment's hesitation, he flies up them and to Alfred's bedroom. The door is ajar, so he pushes it open. Alfred isn't there, and neither are any of the things on his many shelves, his bookcase, or his closet. On his bed is a big pile of random items, and as Arthur moves closer, he realizes it's everything he's ever given Alfred over the two years they had known each other.

All of those things he had bought Alfred, trying to show the younger how he really felt, left behind. The Brit's eyes suddenly felt wet and warm, but the rest of his body was cold and frozen. Until he hears voices.

His head jerks up and he notices the open window. "He didn't." Arthur says, eyes widening. "Please god let him be okay." He prays.

He sprints over to the window, looking down the four-story drop to see Alfred at the bottom, being held tightly by a man with shoulder-length blonde hair. Arthur's eyes widen even more, and his heart seems to crack.

"F-Francis... D-Do you think th-that he meant wh-what he said?" Alfred sniffles, head on the Frenchman's shoulder.

"Mon amour, Arthur is cruel. I do not think he knows how to love." Francis replies, rubbing the blonde's back. "But I do, and I promise I will never hurt you like that. You can stay with me and know that I will support your decisions wholeheartedly."

"Alfred!" Arthur yells from the open window.

Both Francis and Alfred's heads jerk up. The American's eyes are wide and tear-filled, and they stay that way as they stare upward.

"Alfred, I'm sorry! I didn't mean it! I—"

Francis suddenly clamps his hands over Alfred's ears.

"Get your hands off of him!" Arthur yells angrily, eyes burning into Francis' with hatred.

"Looks like you've lost the one thing you truly cared about, no?" Francis calls back, smirking.

"Damn it, I have NOT! ALFRED! Alfred, listen to me!"

"He can't hear you~" Francis says in a sing-song voice.

Arthur runs away from the window and back down the stairs just as Alfred is getting into the car.

"Come, mon amour." Francis says, taking Alfred's large duffel bag. He throws it into the backseat.

"WAIT!" Arthur yells, running to the car."WAIT, ALFRED! I didn't mean it!"

Francis jumps in the sleek vehicle, and before his door is even closed, he speeds off and down the street.

_Mon amour... _Arthur thinks, _That seems familiar... My old girlfriend used to say that to me... Mon amour... _Then, Arthur realizes it. Mon amour meant "my love."

* * *

Alfred throws himself down onto his new plush bed, the one that Francis had given him in his new room. This new, luxurious bedroom that Francis said he had been saving just for him. It had a large flat-screen TV mounted to the wall, surround sound speakers, many different kind of game consoles with hundreds of games to choose from, a laptop sitting on an expensive wooden desk, and many other countless expensive electronics and gadgets that Alfred was far too sad to be excited about.

Sitting in this giant room with a giant bed and with all of this stuff... It would have been his dream room yesterday, but today all he wanted to do was go back to his small bedroom in the fourth-floor apartment building where you couldn't even have speakers because people complained about the noise, and so did Arthur. This room was empty and unfamiliar and it didn't feel like his.

There was no large posters or mounds of stuff crammed under the bed and there weren't dusty old shoe boxes in a small closet that he always left open. No skid marks on the wall from when he puts his back to the bed and his feet on the wall, no holes in his beige wall from pounding a nail too hard. The floor wasn't old and wooden in here, and it wasn't littered with random items that Alfred threw around. No small basketball hoop over a desk that was overflowing with mounds of papers, no pile of old toys, no random things shoved under the bed...

This room was large and spacious, with chocolate brown walls and darker brown plush carpet that made Alfred feel like he was walking on a cloud. There was a mini fridge filled with sodas and alcohol that Francis would most likely later remove. His new closet was full of designer outfits and suits and expensive watches and dress shoes. No worn out pair of bright red sneakers in sight.

The blonde opens his bag and grabs all of the things from his shelves, then sets it on the new shelves. He puts all of his clothes on hangers and shoves them into his giant walk in-closet that was a room by itself, with a small couch and everything.

Alfred sat on the couch in the giant closet, shutting the door behind him as he walks in. Then, he glances around. His eyes land on a floor length mirror, and he stares at himself. His eyes were red and his face was splotchy from crying, so he rubbed his face until he looked normal. His eyes and expression hardened.

If Arthur didn't want him, then why should he want Arthur?

And so, he stripped himself of his ripped up pair of jeans, his faded t-shirt, his bomber jacket, and his extra pair of sneakers, then he throws it all away. Except for the jacket. Nobody could separate him from this jacket. Then, he grabbed a nice dress shirt and put it on. Then a tie, and then his bomber jacket over it. A pair of black dress pants were pulled on, then the dress shoes and a nice watch. He looked at himself in the mirror and nodded. He looked good and he knew it. But he didn't feel good. He wanted to be mad at Arthur, he really did, but he couldn't.

Lots of people had told him he was stupid and annoying, including his alcoholic father, whom he had ran away from when he was sixteen. His father was the reason he had left, and the reason he had met Arthur. And for that, Alfred would always be grateful to his father. But nothing else. Because his life had been a living hell ever since his mom died when he was thirteen, and when his father let him himself go.

But when Arthur told him he was stupid and annoying... He felt like crap, like he really was an idiot. He wouldn't believe it from anyone else, except maybe Michelle or Francis. But it really, really stung when the Brit had said he was stupid and annoying...

Alfred goes back to his bed and throws himself down on it again. Francis knocks on the door, and he says "Come in," but he wants to be alone more than anything. Or with Arthur.

God, why had he said all of those mean things, and why when he didn't mean one word of it? Francis wasn't better than Arthur, and he didn't want to go live with him at all. Why couldn't he have just listened and said "okay, I won't get the tattoo"? Arthur thought he was stupid, and he sure felt like he was right now. He hated himself for what he said, and more than anything he just wanted to be splayed out on the worn sofa, his head resting in Arthur's lap because the Brit was too engrossed in a book to notice. He wanted to be watching some stupid cartoon that was supposed to be for kids and have Arthur scold him, or laugh at the Brit's terrible cooking and have Arthur swat at him with a spatula. He wanted to be living with Arthur, and the thing that hurt the most for him was that Arthur said he didn't want to be living with him.

"Mon amour, it's okay..." Francis says, sitting down on the bed and rubbing Alfred's back.

"What did he say when you covered my ears?"

"He was trying to trick you with meaningless apologies. Arthur only wants you to stay with him so that he can pick on you."

Alfred nods into the silk covers. "Oh."

"Do not be so upset. Arthur is a burden who would have held you back from living your life. He cares about no one but himself, he feels no regret in making your heart hurt this way. I've grown up with him, and I know firsthand that he is not a person that is fun to be around, and certainly not one that is capable of raising you. I am surprised you have turned out so good when he is so... Cranky."

"Francis?"

"Oui?"

"Can I go out?"

"Yes. I have five cars and a few other vehicles in my garage downstairs, the keys are already in the ignition of each. You can keep whichever one you like. Oh, and the code to get into the garage is 678234."

"Keep it? Like, the CAR?"

Francis laughs. "Obviously Arthur has not provided you with anything that is worth at least a fraction of what you are... Though nothing will ever be worth as much. To answer your question, yes, the car. Take whichever one you like and it's yours."

"Thanks." Alfred stands up.

"I see you're wearing clothes from your new closet."

"I didn't want to wear the clothes Arthur bought me anymore."

"I see."

"Okay, well, bye for a little while."

The Frenchman smiles and waves him off. Yes, tonight would be the night he would make Alfred his, he was sure of it.

* * *

Alfred was winding his way down deserted, back road highway on a motorcycle. The wind was knocking into him from all directions, making his golden hair whip wildly around. His eyes scanned the area around him behind his glasses, and he breathes in the crisp night air. It felt good to be alone. All by himself, no distractions, just time to think.

Words that had been said today were still echoing in his head, swirling around in his brain.

_"Pack your bags and get OUT!" _

Did Arthur really mean it when he said that? Did he really think Alfred was stupid and annoying? Did he really think that he would be better off without Alfred? Did he wish they had never met in the first place? Did he regret taking Alfred in and providing for him? Did he hate himself for all of the things he had done for Alfred? Or, perhaps, did he think the exact opposite?

_"Arthur only wants you to stay with him so he can pick on you." _

Alfred winces. Arthur didn't pick on him THAT much... Maybe three times a day... That wasn't too many times, was it? Especially if Alfred didn't care, right? There was nothing to be mad about there if Alfred ignored it, if he payed no mind to Arthur's teasing. He had gotten used to it, so why should he mind it? He usually didn't, but now that he thought about it... Maybe Francis' words were getting to him, but he was starting to think that maybe the teasing hurt him more than he let on.

He DID stop what he was doing when Arthur picked on him, which meant he really wanted Arthur to approve of him. And he DID feel just a bit bad about whatever he had done that Arthur had dubbed annoying...

_"I do not think he knows how to love." _

Did Arthur not care about him? Was he happy to be rid of Alfred? Maybe he was packing his bags and leaving so that Alfred couldn't come running back to him right this moment. Maybe he was emptying Alfred's room of all his stuff and selling it on the internet. Maybe he really didn't care about Alfred at all, he just need something to let out his anger to.

_"Arthur is cruel." _

Was he really cruel? He didn't seem so bad, but then again, this was coming from a guy who had only known Arthur for two years. Francis had known Arthur his entire life, he definitely knew Arthur better than the American.

_"Can you imagine all the jobs and stuff he's done so you won't have to like, be adopted or something?" _

Michelle had a point. Why would Arthur do everything he did if he didn't want Alfred? Why would he put so much time and effort into making Alfred into the happy-go-lucky man he was today if he didn't care?

Because he HAD put some serious effort into Alfred.

The American had been practically an animal, traveling around on foot with few possessions after running away from his father, who fell apart after his mother died, and started hitting him and getting drunk every night. By the time Arthur found him, Alfred had been on the run for a whole year, occasionally finding temporary shelter when he could scrape enough of his money together for a motel room for a few nights and still have enough to feed himself.

It was hard, running away and living on the street, but Alfred thought it was better than living with his dad. With his dad, he couldn't even go downstairs to get something to eat after six o' clock, because his father would be totally wasted by that time, and most likely have his belt waiting and ready for Alfred. He beat his sadness into Alfred, making sure no inch of Alfred wasn't scarred or bruised by his rage by the end of the beatings.

So it was no surprise that trying to get Alfred back into a normal routine would be hard for Arthur to do, and getting Alfred to smile would be even harder.

The boy seemed reluctant to do much of anything, and for about five months he never said anything bad of anything Arthur had or made, even eating his cooking without a word of protest.

And for those five months, he hadn't smiled, and Arthur still felt like he was living with a stranger.

Then, it was Alfred's birthday.

The blonde had come out of his bedroom wearing a party hat and a huge grin that was full of life. His blue eyes were bright and sparkling, and he made Arthur pancakes for breakfast.

_"Why are you so happy? I don't think I've ever seen you smile." Arthur asks, smiling back at Alfred. He was really, really surprised that Alfred was just grinning around like an idiot when he had been so sulky and sad for almost half a year._

_"It's the one day dad never hit me."_

_"What day?"_

_"My birthday. This'll be my seventeenth. I was wondering... Could I ask some friends over, please?"_

Arthur would smile, happily grant Alfred permission to have some friends over, then buy a cake for when Alfred got home from school. It had taken him a whole five months, but Arthur's work at helping Alfred had been a success.

Ever since then, they had gotten to know each other very, very well. Arthur might even be the person who could predict what Alfred was going to do even before he knew, and vice versa. It was breaking Alfred's to know that the special bond they shared could be severed so easily.

Alfred sighs.

Maybe letting Arthur take him in in the first place had been a mistake.

* * *

There's a knock on Francis' door about a half an hour later, and he opens it, knowing full well who it is.

"Alfred is not here. He is out in his new car." He says immediately.

He then smirks at Arthur's shocked expression.

"Liar. Let me in." The Brit growls, pushing Francis out of the way.

"I am not lying. But if you would like to check, we shall go to his bedroom."

Arthur lets Francis lead him down a long hallway, and is shocked by how big and nice the house is. How could he possibly be asking Alfred to come back to their small apartment when he could live in the lap of luxury here? How could he possibly compete with someone who could give Alfred anything he wanted?

"This is Alfred's bedroom." He says, opening the door. "It is one of the nicest rooms in house, because I, unlike you, will only give Alfred the finest of things."

And it _was_ nice. Large and spacious, full of all the technology Alfred could want. There were several doors coming off of the room that Arthur thought probably led into his own luxurious spa-bathroom or his own gourmet kitchen or maybe even his own heated indoor pool.

"Okay, well this is only one room." Arthur says. "He could be in a number of other rooms."

"He is not here, I assure you." Francis says.

"Well then where is he?"

"I will call him and see."

Francis grabs his cell phone from his pocket and presses a button. "Mon amour, I have someone here looking for you." He says into the phone. He presses a button and Alfred's voice is amplified so Arthur can hear it.

"What the—Francis, who the FUCK did you tell?! I haven't told anyone but Michelle I'm living with you, dude! And she's with me right now, so there's no way she told anyone! Don't tell me you like, posted it on Facebook or something, because even I know that's a stupid thing to do." Alfred says, "Oh, by the way, I chose the motorcycle with the green designs on it..."

"Are you wearing a helmet?"

"No."

"You should take one with you next time."

"Okay. Anyway, back to the person who's looking for me. How in the hell did they find out?"

"It's someone who already knew."

"But that's only—Oh. Well, you can tell Arthur that I don't care what he says and that I'm going to the tattoo parlor with Michelle and we're gonna go to the tattoo parlor and get really sweet tattoos. Oh, don't tell him this, but if you're looking for me, I'll be at that tattoo place on the corner of Centry and Mendito, okay? Maybe you can come by and us two can get tattoos of our own."

"Of course. Hold on, mon amour."

Francis places his hand over the speaker of the phone. His lips curl upward when he sees the hurt on Arthur's face.

"You shouldn't have let something as golden as him slip through your fingers... You know, you really did hurt him. In the car he couldn't stop crying, and he would just ask me over and over if I thought he was stupid and annoying."

Arthur says nothing.

Francis takes his finger off the speaker. "Well, I will see you at home, mon amour, or maybe at the tattoo parlor."

"Right. See you." There's a beep, and Alfred's voice is gone.

"He really asked you that? If he was stupid and annoying?" Arthur finally chokes out.

"Really."

"I see. Well, enjoy your time with him. It goes by so fast, you know."

* * *

Arthur's mind was racing. He was sitting in his car alone, having left Francis' house only to pull up to the side of the highway just to think about what he was going to do. He couldn't let Alfred leave him, that was for sure. But how could he make it so that Alfred wanted to be with him as much as he wanted to be with Alfred?

Obviously Francis could give Alfred the attention, the love, and the support he needed, as well as anything else he could want. Yes, Arthur could probably afford more electronics for Alfred, but the American had never complained or gave any indication that he had wanted more. Arthur had bought him a laptop and iPod, but that was about it for electronics. Could he pay for an entirely new and very expensive brand-name wardrobe of suits and ties? Possibly. He might have to pick up an extra job for a few months or so to make up for the loss of money on clothes. Luxury furniture? It would be hard, but Arthur could probably do it. If he dipped into the money he had been saving for college, he could pay for all of that and maybe rent a bigger apartment, or even a house.

* * *

Arthur caught sight of Alfred as he was waving Michelle goodbye and then watching to make sure she got into her house okay, since it was just across the street. While Alfred was distracted, Arthur ran up behind him and forced him around.

The American's blue eyes were wide with fear, but they softened when they realized it was Arthur.

"Alfred." The Brit breathes, staring at him intently. "Alfred, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I didn't mean a word of it, I swear it on everything I own. I never want you to leave me and I never want you to feel like you're stupid or annoying because you're the best thing that's ever happened to me and I should have never kicked you out or made you feel unwanted. If you want a tattoo, then get one, I swear I'll support you and encourage you. If you want a motorcycle and an expensive telly and a laptop and a huge room, or a giant bed and surround sound speakers or a car, a new house, a pet, an entirely new wardrobe, or anything else, then we can go out and I'll buy it all for you right now, just don't leave me."

Alfred's eyes were wide again, and he couldn't seem to find anything to say, whereas Arthur's emerald orbs were pleading and desperate, and he couldn't seem to stop talking about all the stuff he would give the younger.

"I'll get you whatever I want, I promise." Arthur says.

Alfred's mouth opened, then closed. He had NEVER seen Arthur act like this. He seemed so vulnerable, like he was ready to fall apart any moment and he needed Alfred to piece him back together. His stare was so intense Alfred felt like he was staring into his soul. And he was speechless. What was he supposed to say when someone who had screamed at him to get out only two hours ago was now asking him to come back and promising absolutely anything he wanted, especially someone who would never treat anyone like they were worth more than everyone else?

"Please, Alfred, I'll get down on my knees and beg."

This stuns Alfred even more, and he finds himself totally incapable of saying anything. Just staring at Arthur with his mouth agape and his eyes wide as the thoughts whirled around in his head so fast he couldn't catch one and say it to Arthur.

Then, the Brit was on his knees and he was staring up at Alfred and clutching his hands tightly. "I'm begging you to stay with me, Alfred." He says, "I'm begging you, please, please, please, _please... _I'm desperate."

Alfred opens his mouth. "B-But... You s-s-said I was an-nnoying and that y-you didn't want m-me around." He stutters, still more shocked than he's ever been in his entire life. He just couldn't believe this was happening. _Arthur Kirkland _was on his knees, begging for him to come back.

"It was lie, all lies! I swear I'll never say anything like that to you ever again!"

"I-I..."

Arthur was hugging his legs now. _"PLEASE." _

"A-A-Arth-thur... S-Stand-d up, p-please."

Arthur did so, jumping up immediately. "See? Whatever you want, I swear! Just name something and I'll do it!"

"I-I want to g-go to F-Francis' h-house."

Arthur's heart drops and cracks at the same time. "Please, don't go with Francis! Please, I-I'll—"

"To get m-my things. A-And take them h-home."

Arthur freezes, eyes wide. Then, he softens and pulls Alfred into a bone crushing hug. "Oh, thank you... Alfred... I need you like I need air, you know... I've fallen in love with you..." He admits, heart swelling with joy.

The American freezes, pulling away. His eyes were wide again. "Y-You have?"

Arthur grabs his face. "So, so much."

"I like you, Arthur. I like you a lot." Alfred says back, smiling.

Arthur pulls him closer, hugging him tighter than he's ever held anyone. "Where do you want to go first?"

"What do you mean?"

"For all those new things I'm buying you. Where do you want to go first?"

"I don't want them." Alfred says.

"But—"

"I don't want you to get on your knees and beg for me, either."

"But you wouldn't answer me... I thought that might help you decide. And I would stay that way, always begging you and asking you for permission and whatever else, I swear! I just want you to be happy."

"You would change everything about yourself for me?"

"I would do anything for you. I would dye my hair and get piercings and tattoos all over and wear those ripped jeans and chains and listen to loud rock music and never pick up a book again in my life."

"Never?"

"Never." Arthur pulls away, smiling at Alfred. Then, his eyes trail over Alfred's body and he quirks an eyebrow. "Alfred... What are you wearing?"

"Fancy clothes I found in the closet Francis gave me." Alfred grins.

"Do you want those kind of clothes?" Arthur asks, grabbing his hands, "Because we can get them!"

"No, I'm good. I was just upset so I thought I might as well make a new me, since the old me wasn't good enough."

Arthur pulls Alfred back into him. "Never, never feel that way, okay? You're absolutely perfect, and it's my fault that you felt like you weren't. I know you're eighteen and I know you can do whatever you want, I just didn't want you to put something on yourself that you might regret later. Especially when you never know where you and Michelle could end up. Maybe you won't even see each other once this summer is over."

"I hope not, since I got a tattoo."

"You did?!"

"Yep."

"What is it?"

"It's an original Michelle design." Alfred smiles, pulling up his pant leg.

Arthur drops, inspecting it closely. "Okay." He finally says, standing back up and smiling. "It's okay. Interesting."

"Yeah. She's a pretty cool dude. You know, she got like, four tattoos in one sitting? It was so hilarious. I had to stop her from getting a fifth."

Arthur frowns. "Did she talk you into getting more than one?"

"Nah, I picked it out myself." Alfred flashes him a grin, pulling up his shirt and then pulling his pants down. There was a tattoo on his hip bone.

Arthur turns red, quickly glancing down at it and then nodding. The frown on his face deepens as he realizes something. "Alfred... You had to show off that much skin to the person giving you the tattoo?"

"Yeah, duh. She was pretty cool, too."

"Was she flirting?"

"Doubt it."

"You never notice when someone is flirting with you, though! She didn't touch you anywhere but where the tattoo was or anything, did she?"

"Dude, I highly doubt it, since her girlfriend was helping her out with the tattoo."

"Oh." Arthur smiles lightly. "That's good."

"You were sooooo jealous!" Alfred grins happily, "Arthur's the jealous type~"

"I-I am not! I just don't want you showing off the much skin!"

"C'mon, just admit it~ You were totally jealous~"

"M-Maybe a bit..." Arthur says, looking away.

"Whatever." Alfred says, throwing his arm over the Brit's shoulder. "Did I ever tell you that you are like, soooo short?"

"Git."

"Whatever, man."

"Come on, let's go to Francis' house and rub it in his face."

"You're so mean. Francis is still a nice dude."

"No he's not, he's a frog!"

"Whatever."

"Stop saying that!"

"Ugh, another argument?"

"I'm not arguing!"

"Artie, my little argue-er."

"Git!"

Alfred laughs, pulling Arthur closer. Then, he dips his head down and closes his eyes. Arthur grabs his new tie and pulls him down, pressing their lips together.


End file.
